


"I'm a man. I should act like one"

by WeezlBot



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-30 11:26:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19852198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeezlBot/pseuds/WeezlBot
Summary: It's been years since the defeat of Kronos. It's been even more since the Battle of the Labyrinth.Chris is still affected.





	"I'm a man. I should act like one"

Clarisse slammed through the front door of the shitty basement apartment she shared with her fiance, sighing heavily. The room was entirely dark, except for a thin light coming from the corner opposite the bed. A pair of paws slammed into her, a happy shadow, “Yeah, yeah. Love you too.” She ruffled Buddy’s head behind his ears. “Betcha want out, bud. You go. I’m gonna… oh, for the love of Hermes’s sweaty-ass sandals.” She sniffed the air, repulsed. “Who’s burning scented candles? You know that I fucking hate those.” _They smell too much like Aphrodite kids for me to be comfortable._

There was no response. Buddy bounded gleefully out the door, but Clarisse had other things on her mind than her dog. “Chris? Are you in here?” A slight movement, barely obvious. “Chris, what are you doing?”

Again, there was no response. Clarisse flicked on the overhead light and watched the lone bulb flicker to life. _Come on, you piece of shit. There we go._ Chris was silhouetted in the corner, staring at a lit candle. Clarisse pushed her lover out of the way and blew out the offending candle. It was bubblegum scented and bright pink. _Something Sil would have liked. Gods damn it._ “Chris? Are you okay?” 

Chris didn’t respond. Clarisse knelt next to him. “Chris? Please, answer me. I need you to answer me. If you can hear me and understand me, please answer me,” Clarisse begged.

Chris nodded. “I hear you.” His voice was soft and strange. He was only wearing his boxer shorts and his back was wet from sweat. When Clarisse put her arms around his body, she could feel him trembling. 

“Chris, what’s wrong? What’s happening?” Clarisse asked. “Are you okay? Are you…” Clarisse didn’t know how to say what she wanted. “Are you… are you having the flashbacks again?”

Chris didn’t move. Clarisse sat down and rested her head on his shoulder. “Did you go to work today?”

Chris nodded slightly. “I’ve been home for an hour.”

“Okay. What happened then?”

Chris paused and gave a small whimper. “I-I don’t think… I…”

“Go on. Keeping shit in doesn’t help anything.”

“Every-every time I’m in a basement, I-I’m back in the Labyrinth… being… being…” Chris whimpered.

“Every time? This happens every time you’re in our apartment?” Clarisse said, incredulously. 

“N-not every time, but it does happen a lot.” Chris’s voice broke, tears spilling over his cheeks.

“Should we move? _Can_ we move? I mean, if you really can’t stay here, I know my grandmother will let you stay with her until we can get a new place.”

Chris bowed his head further. “I-I… no. I’ll be fine. I just need to find a way to pull myself up and deal with it. I’m a man. I should act like one.”

Clarisse rested her head on his back. “Okay. It’s okay. Do you need to… what is it that you think you need?”

Chris shook his head. “I don’t know. Just… stay here, okay?”  
Clarisse smiled into the warm skin on Chris’s back. “I won’t leave, I promise.” Chris turned around and lay down with his head in her lap. He buried his head in her thigh and his tears stained her lap. Clarisse ruffled his fuzzy hair. “Seriously, though, it’s okay now. Luke Castellan is dead. Nothing like that will ever happen again, okay?”

Chris nodded. “I know. But it’s just really hard to live in the normal world sometimes.”

“That’s called PTSD, Chris. Or whatever they’re calling it this week, but you get what I’m saying.”

Chris nodded. “Yeah. I understand. It all just means that I’ve seen some shit, right?”

Clarisse nodded. “Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Chris kept his eyes closed. Clarisse’s eyes fell on the blown-out pink corpse of the candle. “Why did you get this?” she asked.

“I-I don’t know,” Chris stuttered. “It was on sale.”

“You don’t have to buy something just because it’s on sale,” Clarisse grumbled. “Besides, you know I hate scented candles.”

“I know. But it was the only one left in the store and I felt bad for it.”

“You felt bad for- It’s a fucking _candle._ It doesn’t have feelings.”

“... I know,” Chris mumbled. 

Clarisse nodded. “I’m glad you do. I’d have to have you committed if you didn’t.”

Chris nodded. “... I just… I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. You… you’re really hard to stay mad at.”

“... Thanks?” Chris rolled onto his back, facing her.

"Welcome." Clarisse shook her head and sighed. She knew she was a pretty bad candidate for helping Chris, but that doesn't mean she wouldn't try. 

And maybe, someday, she would succeed.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a headcanon that Clarisse is a huge dog person. She's definitely one of those people who says pit bulls aren't aggressive, just misunderstood.
> 
> Also, sorry for the abrupt ending. What happens is I get so far and realize I don't know where to take it. My apollogies.


End file.
